Sweet Destruction
by QueenLF
Summary: 'His lips pressed to the back of her head as he simply spoke, "My dear, you are but a pawn." She could feel his mouth curve up in a smile.' Silvia's dreams of the green-eyed man are getting more and more vivid, plus the stress of keeping her telekinesis under wraps. She needs help, but will earth's mightiest hero's be able to save her from her seemingly inevitable demise?
1. Chapter 1

It was a typical Autumn day in the Big Apple. The ground of Central Park was littered with apple-red leaves, carrying with them the message that winter was soon on it's way. The sky, once so clear and sapphire blue during summer, and sketched with white clouds during spring, was now filled with ink blots of monochrome nimbus's, towering higher into the sky than the Empire State Building. Leaves and litter danced through the strong breeze, waving and twirling on their endless journey through the concrete jungle, weaving through endless crowds of yellow taxis, scaling the walls of skyscrapers, and diving under the feet of bustling pedestrians, ignoring the chill and braving it in coats and scarves. One of these pedestrians was Silvia Wickens. Sadly, she hadn't chosen to brave the cold. She had no choice.

The wind blew harshly against her skin, turning her cheeks rosy. She stalked through the streets, cursing the strong gusts that threw her straight black hair into her face. Her eyes settled on her objective destination - Buckland's Coffee shop. The soles of her boots clacked against the concrete pavement as she negotiated her way through the crowds towards her employment. Once even within the door, she had to squirm her way through the queues to get to the front, through the employees door, into the bay to get her apron and gloves, and then out to the front to serve customers agitated from the long wait. All of that was before facing the brunt of Joey - in Silvia's eyes the perfect representation of New York - on her back for being late once again.

"Silvia, where the Hell have you been?" The bald, stubby, middle-aged man called out as he handed a customer their ramble of change in the form of two fives and three quarters.

"Sorry sir," she sighed the practiced pattern once again, "I got held up on the way here. You know how foot traffic's gotten now that everyone in the city's suddenly gone all Leonardo DiCaprio on us." She called all of this out as she handed 'Tilly' her usual - decaf cappuccino with a cinnamon doughnut - before turning to the next customer. As bustling as Buckland's was, Silvia made a habit of learning the regulars off by heart - less time spent asking, more time churning out bagels, muffins and everything else that the average american ate with his or her daily morning wake-up call.

"Silvia, I know you, you know me, and as an employer and a business manager, I've gained the skill over the past six years to learn when someone is lying to me." Joey leaned against the bench, the girl he was addressing glancing at him uneasily as she served another customer. Now Joey was going to ask someone else to take over for them, walk with her to the bay, and ask her to tell him what was wrong. This wasn't good.

"Trisha, could you come here and take over for me for a minute?" Joey called through to the back room. A young Latina girl emerged, hair in tight corkscrews surrounding her head, a wide and genuine smile across her face. She gave a nod and took Joey's place at the counter. Silvia sighed silently. It was a good thing she was a quick thinker.

"But, sir, there's no one here to take over my place," she said, trying to hide her relief. This was just as Tyler walked in through the bay.

"Sorry I'm late mister Donovelli," The dark haired young man said as he tossed his parka jacket onto the nearest hook.

"Well, Tyler, you can make it up to me by taking Silvia's place for a minute while I talk to her." Tyler gave his employer an eager nod, as Silvia slowly stepped away from her register and coffee machine. Joey started walking behind her, pushing her forward towards the bay. She shot daggers at the back of her Asian co-workers head as she walked past the rustic themed mugs and cups that lined the mirror-paneled back wall. If there was one thing that Silvia had to say about Buckland's, it was that the place had charm.

She walked through the plain-white doorway and into the bay. It's purpose was simple - a seven-foot by seven-foot white washed entrance for the coffee's shop's small workforce, the hooks dotted along the walls occupied by cool weather jerseys and jackets. Joey turned her around by her shoulder, forcing her to look at him.

"Silvia, c'mon, you can talk to me," he reassured, hand still on her shoulder. She brushed it off like a fly and shook her head.

"Joey, thanks, but the problems I've got, I don't think anyone else could help me with." These 'problems' were the dreams. The dreams that seemed to haunt whenever she closed her eyes. The dreams that grew more vivid by the night. The dreams of the silhouette she didn't recognize. But no one knew that. She didn't tell anyone, so how would they find out? It was her 'other stuff' that she struggled to keep under wraps.

Joey looked at her with concerned brown eyes. "Silvia, has someone been threatening you? Do I need to call the police?" Silvia put on a joyful and unharmed facade the second the police were mentioned. She was having a hard enough time convincing herself she wasn't crazy, let alone a psychoanalyst and the NYPD.

"Joey, I'm just doing some of that soul-searching stuff is all. Look, I'm fine. If my work ethic starts slipping, then I give you permission to talk to me," she smiled kindly after this. Joey gave a small nod and tightened his lips.

"Alright," he said, getting a smile out of Silvia.

* * *

Seven hours, eighty or so served coffees and one 15-minute bus commute later, and Silvia was at her second job - cleaning for one of New York's poshest family. Luckily for her, being posh also meant general tidiness. All that she did was the jobs around the house when Mrs Sanders was too busy to play domestic goddess. She unlocked the front door with her given worker key, the tumblers moving with a swift and familiar 'click'. The heavy wooden door sighed as she pushed it back and entered the landing. She walked down the main hallway towards the kitchen, the walls dotted with photos and portraits of the family that was the Sanders. A young, dark haired man in a work suit smiling mid-laugh. His arm around a young boy, no older than five, hair combed tidily around his head and wearing a starched shirt under a sweater vest. Silvia gave a small smile at the few photos that caught her eye. They were the picture-perfect upper-class family.

She wandered through the corridors, taking in everything about the house she knew so well - it made her feel rich. Once in the kitchen, she set down her keys on the island and picked up the list that Mrs Sanders had left for her. 'Hang out the laundry, dust off the photos and mantle piece, wood oil the banisters'. Seemed simple enough. Silvia walked through to the sitting room, the basket of laundry sitting in front of one of the couches that surrounded the fireplace. She picked it up and supported it on her hip as she walked towards the back glass door leading out to the backyard. She set the basket down by the washing line and walked towards a kennel in the corner of the yard, outside of which was a coal-coloured Labrador who seemed very happy to see her.

Silvia unclipped the chain of the dog. She smiled as he barked joyfully, his tail rhythmically beating against the wooden hut dog kennel.

"Hey Rocco," she smiled, scratching him behind the ears, "I'm glad to see you, too." It was then, with the dog's musty breath on her face, the cool wind blowing from behind her head, that Silvia realised how tired she was. She gave a small sigh. Using her powers to do her job for one day wasn't going to kill anyone. Silvia pulled up a deck chair and set it next to the washing line, dozing in it as she held up a hand, guiding the sheets as they pegged themselves to the line. It was mentally draining for her to use her power, but the little physical energy she had left was a good enough excuse. Besides, the only person who would see was Rocco, and who would he tell?

Silvia dozed in the brightening, early afternoon sun, the smell of fresh linen putting a smile on her face. The basket of laundry was nearly empty, when Rocco, who had been peacefully dozing next to her, head on his paws, began growling. Silvia raised an eyebrow.

"Rocco?" she said, scratching the dog's shoulder, "What's the matter, boy?" The doorbell ringing answered her question. She walked back through the house, opening the front door to three men in suits, surrounding one young woman. Cropped hair, military uniform - whatever was going on, Silvia did not want in.

"May I help you?" She asked, following the Sanders' instructions for visitors.

"Yes," the young woman said, "is this the residence of Mr Terrance and Mrs Patricia Sanders?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid they won't be back for a couple of hours," she said. This was strange, on the list it didn't say that they were expecting anyone.

"That's fine," one of the men in suits said. "Silvia Wickens?"

"Who's asking?"

"We're here to talk to you about the Avengers initiative."


	2. Chapter 2

"I have no idea why SHIELD is interested in me," Silvia said. They were still standing on the front porch, Silvia leaning on the mahogany door frame to give off a sense of calm, trying to tell them that she wasn't who she needed. She also calmly laughed slightly to improve her facade. "I mean, I'm an open book. Secrets don't exist to me. I have nothing to hide." The woman, who had identified herself as agent Maria Hill, folded her arms in front of her chest.

"Very well then," she said, eyeing the younger woman up and down, "If so, then why doesn't the world know of your telekinesis powers?" Silvia felt her muscles tense and her eyes widen. How did they know. She had to revert to basics.

"Teleke-what? I have no idea what you're talking about. Look, you've definitely got the wrong person." She made sure to come off as extra dismissive. Silvia went to shut the door, but agent Hill stopped it with her foot.

"Look, miss Wickens... there's no point denying it. SHIELD is well aware of your powers. All we're asking you to do is join us."

Silvia cautiously reopened the door. "And what would happen if I did join you?" She kept her hand firmly on the doorknob, ready to slam the door and race out the back yard should things turn sour.

"SHIELD knows of your financial struggles. Having to work two jobs seven days a week or else lose everything is a position that no one your age deserves to be in. Join the Avengers Initiative and you won't have to worry about having a roof over your head ever again."

Silvia gulped silently. If they knew all this, who's to say they didn't know about the dreams?

"I don't know," she said halfheartedly, "I mean, for me right now, things are good, things are normal-" As soon as the word 'normal' passed her lips, Agent Hill held up a hand and shook her head.

"Miss Wickens, if you continue to live like this, normal is never going to be an option." Silvia took in a deep breath, releasing through her nostrils in the fashion of a sigh. She leaned, back on the wood, arms crossed and one foot pressed to the wood behind her. Would she? Could she? She weighed the options in her head. She had two good paying jobs, but seven days a week really did take it out of her. She remembered the first time she noticed how dark the skin below her eyes had grown. And had those creases under her eyes always been there? She had friends, but so few that she could count them off on one hand. Her powers, though tame, were only partially controllable. Everything she knew about them she had to learn by herself. No parents to teach her and how would anyone at the foster home be able to explain something like that to her? Her powers had to be kept to a minimum, once she started them she sometimes couldn't turn them off. She looked to the agents, knowing her choice.

"Well, it's been a while since I've done something stupid that I'll most likely regret," she finally said. The agents gave a simultaneous nod.

"Very well," Agent Hill said, "Three agents will be at your residence tomorrow morning at 10 am to collect you," she explained, "they'll be driving a black, unmarked van. You may take with you any personal items you feel you may need, but essentials such as furniture will be provided for you at the base."

Silvia took a deep breath, nodding before she could change her mind. "Okay," was all that she could force out. Agent Hill gave a nod, her hands behind her back.

"Have a good evening," Agent Hill said strongly. She and the other agents turned away. Silvia shut the door as they walked away, and as soon as the door clicked into place, she lost it. Her knees gave way beneath her and she sunk to the floor with her back to the door. She pressed her head between her forearms, convulsive sobs escaping her as tears rolled down her cheeks and made splattered patterns on the knees of her jeans. What was she doing?!

Rocco, being an outside dog, hadn't followed her inside, but it was only seconds after she began crying that she heard his claws clacking against the wooden floor. She set a hand on his head, spreading and retracting her fingers on top of his head in a scratching motion.

"Oh boy, Rocco," she breathed heavily, "what have I gotten myself into?"

* * *

The apartment greeted her with it's usual earthy smell. With a sigh Silvia dumped her bag next to the door. It was eight o'clock, and she was hoping to get some sleep tonight. A five minute shower and a change into an old t-shirt and flannel shorts was all that it took for her to join the world of the walking dead. In short, Silvia was exhausted. She dragged her feet along the worn-out carpet towards her small room. It was funny for her to think that this was her last night in this apartment. A small tear rolled down her cheek. Tomorrow was the first day of her new life. Her hands were the first part of her to hit the bad. She fell forward at its foot, dragging herself up the duvet and pulling it back. She crawled in, and her head had barely made contact with the pillow before she fell asleep.

* * *

_The mist hung low to the floor, reaching only as high as her knees, everything below obscured. Silvia was wearing a plain white summer dress, she could feel it hanging around her feet. All around her was black, the sole light being a spotlight, which seemed to follow her wherever she walked. She took several steps forward in one direction, but a low-pitched growl that grew as she walked towards it sent her back. With those two small steps, a deep laughter surrounded her, reverberating in her chest. That laughter was not from her._

_"You foolish mortal," the silky voice taunted. Silvia would've thought it to be beautiful, had it not been haunting her for the past two months. Now, the only emotion it induced in her was terror._

_"You fear the beasts that your own mind concocts, acting as they may destroy you, yet the only thing in this scene that may destroy is yourself. If you should fear anything, you should fear your own mind." Her eyes traveled to the mist, which was now rapidly becoming the colours of grass and blood. It was then that Silvia realised that this was not mist - it was smoke, smoke which was rapidly travelling upward. She could not outrun it, nor could she get out of it's way. It finally reached her mouth. She held her breath as well as she could, but that did not stop the smoke from burning her eyes. She couldn't contain her breath any longer. She puffed out, redrawing a breath which stung like a snakebite. Her throat burnt with the red smoke, as the laughter returned. It was strong, loud and mocking. Mocking at her suffocation. Mocking at her death.  
_

Silvia sat bolt upright in bed, a small yell escaping her throat. Her sheets were dampened with nervous sweat, and her head throbbed as if just being beaten. Silvia glanced at her clock.

9 o'clock. This was going to be a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

Silvia rubbed the tiredness from her face as best she could. 5am was early to most, but it had been her usual wake-up time for the past three weeks now. It gave her time to get more stuff done. And besides, it wasn't like she was going to wake up any of her neighbours up. Mr Wallenstein to her right was nearly eighty and slept like a log 90 percent of the day, and no one lived to her left. She dragged her feet through to the bathroom, standing before the sink , staring at her reflection. When did she become a zombie? The skin below her eyes was so dark that it shined with a luminous grey tinge. She cupped her hands to collect the water flowing from the copper-coloured tap, splashing it in her face as a chill ran down her spine and splats of water made splotches of her night shirt a darker shade of blue. She shut off the water as she twisted the tap with a familiar squeak, rubbing the excess droplets from her face with her hand.

She stood in front of the mirror, finger combing the knots out of her hair to try and lessen the amount of them when she had to drag a brush through her mangled, pre-straightened black hair. She missed a few, the hairbrush catching on them and tearing the hairs straight from her sensitive scalp. Silvia stared at herself for a good long while, wondering what the future had in store for the girl staring back at her. The idea frightened and excited her at the same time. She knew nothing of the Avengers, except for the whole 'Battle of New York' thing, and anyone who knew her knew that was off limits. She finished dragging the brush through her hair before squeezing strands of it between the ceramic plates of her straightener. A little foundation and some eye shadow and no one would be any the wiser to her sleep deprivation.

Silvia wandered her apartment once having finished her breakfast, trying to decide what to take with her. She knew it would be down to essential sentimental items, so not much. Her favourite playing cards, a photo with her and all of the other kids from the orphanage, her wallet, a few of her favourite items of clothing, her wallet, her phone, her music player, her headphones, and her bathroom bag. She set them down on her bed and walked to the coat hanger to try and find something to carry it all in. Her rucksack would suffice. It hung gently from her hand as she carried it by the strap back to her small mound of belongings. She wasn't surprised that all her life had come down to was a pile of necessities she was able to fit into a pack.

Silvia sighed lightly as she pulled the bag onto her back before checking her watch. Eight o'clock. She still had two hours. Resting her eyes for a minute couldn't hurt. She walked through to the small living room, which was simultaneously a dining room, bedroom and a kitchen. She set her bag down on the end table at the head-end of her little green sofa, before flopping onto the cushions in a flamboyant fall. She was asleep before her body hit the couch.

_Her nose burned as she tried to take in a breath. Silvia stored all of the oxygen she had in her lungs, holding on to it when she realized that she was underwater. It was so blue and clear she could barely tell. She lifted her head and stared at the shimmering water's surface. Her mind empty save her new goal as she swam upwards towards the dancing streaks of silver and cobalt. As she ascended the surface seemed to grow further and further away. She clawed through the water as her lungs burnt as if she had inhaled the sun. Her vision began to dance with spots of black rimmed with blood red. She was exhausted. Her oxygen-hungry body was beginning to give up, just as her hand breached the surface. As soon as the chilly air prickled her saturated skin, she kicked her way upward, taking in the air as soon as her head was above water. Her soaked black hair clung to her head and neck as she regained her senses. She coughed up and sneezed out the water that had worked its way into her lungs and up her nostrils as land became apparent. She swam towards the island, not caring who was there or what she may be faced with. The only thing that kept her tired body going was hope for what she may find. She was a fair swimmer, not the best but she could swim to save her life._

_After several minutes of paddling, she felt sand beneath her weary hands. She dragged herself up the beach, wiping her face with a clean hand. The waves lapped at her ankles, still sitting with the tide line, as the water she coughed up ran down her face and dripped from her chin. Slowly she lifted her head to view the forest before her. It was of pine, that was quick to work out from the spicy-sweet scent. She picked herself up from the white grains and staggered into the woods, finding a small trail to follow. Silvia had always had a strange affinity with the forest. It was something she didn't understand, but for whatever reason, when the light broke through the canopy in pin-prick shards, and the branches reached out to stroke the hair from her face, she felt at ease._

_The trail led her to a large clearing. The sky was painted with grey, no sun available to dry her sodden clothes. Silvia shook herself in a vain attempt to warm herself as the cold wind bit at her. But the wind carried more than a bite, it carried... words. Words, silky in voice and sharp in use. Silvia froze when she heard them, her only movement being releasing a small breath, he wind carrying the small cloud it created through the air, drifting and dancing through the cold breeze._

_"Who's there?" she asked in a shaky voice. A chilling laugh was received in return._

_"It is I," the male voice replied, "he who shall force you to realise your every waking fear." She took in a sharp, cold breath at these words. Fear was not something that Silvia handled well. She quickly skimmed through an inventory of her fears in her mind. What scared her most? Let's see, there was dying from..._

_Something tightened around Silvia's throat before she could finish thinking. Strangulation, that was one of her main fears! Her hands flew to her throat in an attempt to pull away whatever was cutting off her oxygen supply. She found nothing but her own skin. This was too much, she had to free herself. She dug her nails downward, trying to find what was killing her, nothing present. She couldn't breathe. She fell to her knees, glancing down at her nails to see her own skin and blood buried in them. Silvia felt as if her throat was caught in an invisible vice, strangling her with every movement. She couldn't take it any more._

_Why are you doing this?" she hoarsely croaked in a voice only slightly more audible than a whisper. The laugh returned, this time far cooler, far darker._

_"A broken mind is easier to take," Silvia jumped. The voice whispered right in her ear, while no one was present the second she whipped her head around. Her vision wobbled and her face made contact with the cold grass._

With a start she awoke, breathing in gentle heaves. 'It was just a dream', she thought, 'it was just a dream'. Silvia glanced at her watch. She'd been out for nearly two hours.

"A new record," she murmured to herself, sitting up on the couch. The SHIELD van would be here any minute now. She dashed through to the bathroom. It was a good thing her makeup was all waterproof, for when she glanced at herself in the mirror she noticed a small strip of sweat across the top of her forehead, between her makeup and hairline. But Silvia also noticed something else. She gritted her teeth at a stinging on the side of her neck. Upon closer inspection, she discovered a small chunk of her skin had been cut clean off, much like a shaving cut. Luckily it wasn't deep enough to bleed. Silvia felt woozy when she discovered the missing piece of flesh buried under one of her nails. Whatever was happening to her, it was starting to get real.


End file.
